


Plausible Deniability

by Chibiness87



Series: An Exercise in Nostalgia [7]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, MSR UST, POV Second Person, Post-Episode: s05e07 Emily, Walter Skinner ships them too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 07:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: January 2nd, and there's already a complaint. It's going to be a long year.





	Plausible Deniability

**Plausible deniability** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating:** T  
**Season/Series** : 5x07 Emily  
**Disclaimer** : Not mine.

 **Summary** : January 2nd, and there’s already a complaint. It’s going to be a long year.

* * *

 

You don’t get to the position you’re in in the FBI by being stupid. A fact that, even now, years later, still seems to elude certain agents under your purview. While you like to think you have a higher threshold for certain… behaviours than other section leaders and assistant directors, you do have a line.

A line which, for the life of him, Fox Mulder insists on toeing, again and again and again.

Only, this time, he’s gone too far.

Agent Mulder enters your office, head and shoulders slightly more slumped than usual, and for a moment you wonder if he already knows the level of shit he is in. Before you can instruct the taller agent to take a seat, his partner follows him in, and you have to hold back a gasp. If Mulder looks somewhat downbeat, Agent Scully looks, dare you say it, almost broken.

You never thought you would have to use that word with her, but here you are.

“Agent Mulder, take a seat.” You glance at Agent Scully, eyebrow quirking in question. “I don’t believe I requested your presence in this meeting, Agent Scully?”

You’re trying to be kind, gentling your tone, but she still balks, and for a moment it’s almost like you struck a physical blow to her. Her partner has noticed her reaction too, and has stopped in his slump towards one of the two chairs in front of your desk, arm reaching out for her. Before either of you can do or say anything however, you see her spine straighten, her face blanking. Not even looking at you, she glances at her partner instead. “I’ll be outside.” With a quick, “Sir,” she turns, and leaves.

Leaving the two of you looking after her retreating figure in concern.  Putting the matter you called this meeting on hold for a moment, you instead turn your concerned gaze to her partner. “Is she ok?”

Mulder sighs. “She’s had a couple of rough days.”

“I thought she was visiting family out of town?”

Mulder nods, finally sinking into the seat behind him. “She was.”

The tone of finality should shock you, but you can tell when a matter is being closed right in front of you, and the attitude is clear. _You’re our boss_ , Mulder’s eyes say, _not our friend. Leave it alone_.

And for a moment, you consider ignoring the tone, the unspoken request. Because, as mentioned earlier, you’re not stupid. You know the bond these two share; one does not camp out in one’s partner’s hospital room for days at a time, sneak into a government facility and steal a cure for an incurable cancer, and lie under oath in front of a review panel without there being something there. You know the rumours of course. Know about the nicknames and the certainty people have come to you with wild reports of activities down in basement office, but you widely ignore them.

And, while you do not endorse them, as long as they continue to work well together and close cases at the rate they do, and as long as they keep a level head while out in the field and you don’t walk in on them, you’re quite willing to turn a blind eye as much as possible. But as much as you wish you could turn a blind eye on this, actions must be accounted for.

With a sigh, you round your desk, sinking in to your own seat. Picking up the piece of paper that has meant this year has already started off badly, you glance over the pertinent facts once more, before meeting the younger agent’s eye. “Can you explain to me why I’m sitting here with an official compliant regarding your actions over the past few days?”

“Sir?” You have to admit, his poker face is quite good when he needs it to be.

“You assaulted a doctor, by all accounts had his pressed against a wall and had your gun in his face. You then had to be escorted from the building by security. I don’t need to tell you how many rules you’ve broken here, do I?” As much as you try, there is an undercurrent of both anger and disbelief in your tone. When Mulder doesn’t say anything, you can feel your blood pressure rise. “Why were you even in San Diego? I thought you were taking some personal days.”

Finally, there is a reaction, though it completely floors you. Because instead of making himself appear bigger, appear in control, for the first time since he sat in your office and begged you to make a deal with the smoking man, he seems lost.

Unsure.

It’s not a side of him that you’re used to seeing.

“Don’t bullshit me, Mulder.” You sigh, make your tone less harsh. “What’s going on?”

“He was experimenting. On children.” Mulder swallows, and you feel your own anger fade. Quiet now, Mulder glances at the door, like he’s expecting someone to be standing there. “I did it,” he admits so quietly you have to strain to hear him, “because he saw a pay check, and not a little girl, dying in a hospital bed.” Eyes hard, his stare all but pins you to the desk. “And you can do whatever you need to do to me, suspend me or whatever, but don’t ask me to apologise. Because I’m not sorry. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat, if you knew, if you had _any_ idea what it was like to watch her…”

He bites himself off so quickly, you blink. Suddenly, you realise the reason why he keeps glancing at the door. He checking for his partner. Not because he wants her to be here for this, but because he doesn’t. Eyes wide, you find yourself checking the room for her yourself. “What was your partner’s involvement in this case?”

Mulder shakes his head. Eyes so sad, you find yourself having to bite your tongue to stay silent. “Please,” he says, “leave her out of this. She doesn’t…” He sighs. Looks down for a moment, before meeting your gaze again. “Don’t put this on her.”

“I need to know, Mulder. I have to tell them something.”

He sighs. Shakes his head. “Tell them whatever you need to, sir. Just please, leave her alone.”

You sigh, knowing when he sets up a wall, there is only one person who can break it down, and for whatever reason he isn't letting her see it’s even there. God, you hope they haven’t broken up. “Help me out here, Mulder. Please. What was it about this child that made you react the way you did?” You glance at the door, intuition reeling. “Off the record.”

As soon as the words pass, you see his spine deflate, his entire posture speaking of pain. When he looks at you, his eyes are tired, sad. Haunted. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Agent Scully.” He nods, barely and just once, but it is enough, and you close your eyes.

“Please,” he says, “please, don’t ask her about it.”

You nod, heart aching for the young agent who has been nothing but a pawn in a game since day one, and paying dearly for it. You know, suddenly, that you’re not going to do anything about this complaint. Not officially. Reports can be fudged on any level, after all. Meeting Mulder’s gaze, you nod towards the door. “Get out of here, Mulder.”

He nods, and you see him take a deep breath, pushing the emotions you saw back under the FBI agent mantel he wears. The door is only open a crack when curiosity gets the better of you. Calling after him, still at your desk, you ask, “What was her name?”

He turns back, the door remaining open slightly. “Sir?”

“The girl. What’s her name?”

He smiles briefly, ducking his head into his chest for a moment. “Emily.”

“Must be a special girl, to get you to the point of holding a man up by gunpoint.” You quirk an eyebrow in his direction.

Mulder nods. “She is.”

Without another word, he turns and leaves the office. The door remains open slightly, and you get up to close it. Getting closer, you suddenly realise Agent Scully has chosen to wait for her partner in your outer office, instead of the basement. It is also quickly obvious she heard your last exchange, and you feel a stab of guilt.

Her voice is soft, but you can still hear the pain in it. “Why would you do that?”

Unable to help yourself, you peak through the crack of the door, unsurprised to see the partners standing so close. While they are not touching, the air all but crackles between them. You watch as Mulder shakes his head, seemingly giving in to an urge as he traces over the skin of her cheek. Instantly, you feel like a voyeur. “Scully,” he whispers, “you know why.” He tucks a strand of hair being her ear in a move so tender, you cannot help but gasp.

Her eyes close, her head nestles into his hand for a moment, before pulling back. “But…”

“Whatever else she was, she was still yours.”

“Mulder…”

“She was still yours, Scully.” They share a look for so long, you wonder what else they’re saying without words. Knowing that closing the door now will only make them aware of your presence, you breathe a silent sigh of release when he moves, placing his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the door. “C’mon, there’s a file downstairs I could use your expertise on.”

It’s only when he’s closing the door that he glances over his shoulder, and meets your gaze head on, knowingly. You should be shocked that you were made, but then again, given that his partner is involved, maybe not. Instead of saying anything, you share a nod of quiet understanding. Nothing about this case will ever be reported on; the complaint letter on your desk has a sudden and unexpected appointment with a shredder.

If you’re asked, you’ll deny all knowledge of it.

After all, you didn’t get to be in the position you’re in in the FBI by being stupid.

* * *

 

End

Thoughts? 


End file.
